Blind Fury Read online

  When they rounded the bend, Mick spotted a dilapidated roof through the newly green and still mostly bare branches of a maple. They slowed and walked low with guns drawn, darting from bush to bush, constantly looking back—checking their six—for threats.

  The rumble of an engine alerted them to an approaching vehicle on the road. Mick dove for cover, Dan beside him, just as a flurry of motion erupted at the front of the house. His breathing stopped when Jenna and Tara ran down the porch steps and took off down the driveway.

  Jenna was alive! His heart thudded against his chest as if trying to escape. Sweet mother of God, she was alive. But Colin stood in the doorway with his rifle raised. Mick got a bead on him, but eased off the trigger at the last second. Colin wasn’t aiming at the women, he was covering for them. What the hell?

  Mick would have to figure it out later, though, because Jenna and her friend were heading straight for the black Yukon that was now advancing up the drive.

  “Get Tara,” he said to Dan before launching himself toward Jenna. He grabbed her and yanked her through the scratchy branches, out of the way of the approaching SUV, as shots cracked like thunder behind them. She screamed and tried to pull away, and he remembered his new look. In her panic, she hadn’t recognized him. He gripped her tighter and kept running. “It’s me.”

  She focused on him then, her mouth gaping with surprise. “Mick.”

  Behind them gears crunched and gravel sprayed as the driver of the SUV attempted to turn the vehicle. Without stopping to look back, Mick dragged Jenna on a parallel path toward the Land Rover. When they reached it, he squatted down behind the front tire, hoping the engine block would provide some protection if anyone else shot at them.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his blood boiling at the sight of her reddened, swelling cheek.

  She nodded, reaching out for him. “How did you find me?”

  He held her to him tightly, stroking her hair, afraid she wasn’t real. “The bracelet. I should have told you about it, but I was afraid you wouldn’t wear it if you knew.”

  She stroked his cheek before pulling him in for a hard kiss. “Thank you.” Her shaky breaths puffed along his chin and he longed to take her home and comfort her all night—hell, for the rest of their lives—but he couldn’t let down his guard yet.

  “I would never have stopped looking. You know that, right?”

  She nodded, her eyes shining, and gave him a weak smile.

  Footsteps hurried toward them from the house and Mick put a finger to his lips before peeking around the wheel. Dan and Tara were racing in their direction.

  “Thank God.” Mick leaned his back against the front quarter panel and scanned the road and the brush beyond. Clear, as far as he could tell. He swung around and rested his arms on the hood, covering Dan and Tara’s approach with his gun.

  When he was ten feet away, Dan tossed Mick the keys. “Go!”

  “Get in and stay down,” he said, shoving Jenna toward the back seat before he hopped in front, using his left hand to keep his gun trained in the direction of the house while he started the engine with his right.

  Dan practically threw Tara in the back and dove into the front seat. “Go, go, go,” he yelled, swinging his door shut as Mick peeled away. Good thing they’d backed in.

  They got twenty yards before the windshield shattered and Mick lost control. The women screamed. Dan swore. Mick groaned as fire bit into the right side of his chest and his arm quit following directions from his brain.

  He struggled to keep them on the road, but even the best driving skills were no match for his ebbing consciousness and the rutted asphalt. The last thing Mick heard before a tree branch obliterated what had remained of the windshield was Jenna calling his name.

  Jenna screamed and reached for Mick. Blood was everywhere, but luckily the tree branch had plowed right down the center of the car, without hitting anyone. Small round pieces of glass covered the dash, the seats, and both men.

  “Stay down!” Dan yelled, pushing himself away from the dashboard as he wiped a trickle of blood from his forehead. Deafening blasts emanated from the gun in his hand as he aimed through the shattered windshield. “How many were in the house?” he asked.

  “Five,” Tara answered, taking hold of Jenna’s hand and urging her under the tree branch to her side of the seat. “But don’t count Colin. He helped us get away.”

  “So with the one in the Yukon, that’s five.” He popped the magazine on his weapon and shoved in a new one. “Keep an eye out on your side, but try to be stealthy about it. The tinted windows should help.”

  While part of her mind marveled at Tara’s uncharacteristic calm, Jenna squeezed herself under the invading branch and climbed into Mick’s seat. He had to be okay. Had to. She was not going to lose anyone else. Not now. “Mick?”

  He groaned.

  Maybe he hadn’t been shot. Maybe he’d just been injured by the broken branch.

  Dan glanced back at her sitting on Mick’s lap. “What are you doing?”

  “I have to help him.”

  “Shit,” Dan said as he reclined his seat and crouched down, positioning his head behind the door frame. “Tara, get into the cargo area and stay down. Jenna, when she’s out of the way, lower Mick’s seat so that you’re both out of sight.”

  Tara folded the center rear seat down and scrambled into the back. She crouched low and watched through the side window.

  Jenna found the switch on the driver’s seat and levered Mick back, using her elbows to support herself above him on the leather captain’s chair. A bullet slammed into the back door panel on the passenger side, and she jumped in surprise, biting back a scream.

  Mick needed her to stay calm. She’d be no good to him otherwise. Still, her hands trembled as she examined his wounds. While he wasn’t dead—thank God—he was badly hurt. She peeled back his shirt, gasping at the gooey mess around the hole in his flesh. Passing out was not an option, but holy crap.

  There was a reason she had studied computers instead of medicine in college. Machines didn’t bleed. The last time she’d had blood drawn, she’d nearly taken a dive off the phlebotomist’s chair.

  The boom of Dan’s gun brought her around.

  Taking a deep breath, she removed her own shirt and folded it into a square. Pressing the makeshift bandage flat over the wound, she applied as much pressure as she could with her injured hands. It had to be enough. It had to be. “Stay with me, Mick. I love you.” Her green shirt slowly turned red, despite her best efforts, and tears dropped from her cheeks onto his bare skin. “Don’t you leave me too. Don’t you dare.”

  Mick moaned and flinched under her touch, but he didn’t pull away.

  She finally understood what it had been like for him after Rob was shot. Watching the life leak out of someone you loved, knowing all along you were helpless to stop it. God, please, not Mick too. She’d do anything to keep him alive.

  “Dan! Someone’s coming,” Tara hissed.

  “Jenna, give her Mick’s gun.”

  Where was it? She scooted back, keeping one hand on his chest, and scrambled around with her other hand. She found it between his legs on the seat beneath her.

  Tara crawled forward and took it from her. “Now what?” she asked Dan.

  He swore and kicked the glove box. Then he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The safety should be off, just aim and shoot. Aim a little low because it’ll buck back on you. And watch out for breaking glass.”

  Tara stared at the gun for several seconds before catching Jenna’s gaze. “I can do this.” Her body disappeared into the cargo hold again.

  Jenna pressed on Mick’s chest with both hands and rested her forehead on the padded edge of the seat. No matter what, she had to keep him alive until they could get help. Still, no matter what she did, the blood kept coming in a slow but steady stream.

  Maybe it was hopeless. They were sitting ducks in the SUV. They couldn’t move Mick without possibly killing him, and the
bad guys—who had the tactical advantage—were closing in on them. She and Tara were just as trapped as they’d been in that bedroom.

  The back driver’s-side window cracked and Tara’s surprised yelp was drowned out by the deafening sound of gunfire from the back of the Land Rover.

  “I got him!” Tara yelled.

  “Make sure he stays down, and stay alert. There are still four more out there,” Dan said.

  Would the neighbors call the police or were the nearest homes too far away for anyone to realize that the racket was actually gunfire? And maybe people were allowed to hunt on their land around here anyway. Jenna had no idea. “Dan, do you have a cell phone?”

  “Yes. I tried to call for backup, but I can’t get any service.” He twisted up and looked through the window, before quickly ducking down again. “See if you can find Mick’s phone.”

  Jenna searched his clothes with one hand and found the cell and battery in the front pocket of his khakis. The angle was awkward, but she pulled them out.

  She snapped the battery back in and powered on the phone. Why was it taking so damn long to start up? Two eternal minutes later, the cell phone chimed that it was ready. Jenna held it out and checked the signal strength.

  All she needed was one bar. One tiny freaking bar. Was that too much to ask?

  She got nothing.

  Mick awoke groggy and disoriented. The bitter smell of gun smoke tickled his throat, and his chest hurt like hell. He opened his eyes a crack. Jenna was lying on top of him, wearing only her cotton bra, her red, puffy eyes focused on something to his right.

  “Hey, babe.”

  Her head snapped back to him. “Oh my God. Mick, you’re awake.”

  She showered his face with kisses, and he caught her mouth, using his working left arm to pull her closer. Like always, his pain faded into the background when she kissed him.

  Much too soon, she broke away and looked at him, almost smiling. “Slow down there, cowboy. You’ve been shot and I need to keep pressure on the wound. Not to mention the fact that people are still shooting at us.”

  Shot? No wonder he hurt like hell. He took in the blown-out windshield and the invading tree branch as his memories slammed home. He couldn’t have been out long. “Dan, I don’t think your neighbor’s going to be too happy about her car.”

  “That’s okay. I was looking for a way to break up with her,” he shot back, his muscles tense as he crouched behind the center beam, his gun at the ready. “We’re in a bit of a standoff here. We have four guys pinned in the trees, but we can’t hold out here forever. It’s Rizzo, Beavis, Dolph, and whoever was in the SUV. I couldn’t make him out behind the tinted windows.”

  “Me either,” Mick said. He tightened his grip on Jenna. “Why are you still in here anyway? This is a death trap.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not leaving you.”

  Foolish woman. He wasn’t worth her life. “If you care about me at all, you’ll save yourself.”

  “I love you. And I’m not going to lose you too,” she said, her chin set at an obstinate angle.

  “Damn it, Dan, tell her I’m right.”

  “He’s right,” Dan said, the reluctance clear in his voice. “We have a better chance on our feet, and if we’re lucky, we can find help down the road. There might even be a phone in the house.”

  “Then you and Tara go,” Jenna said. “I’m staying here with Mick.”

  “Jenna, please, do it for me,” he said. He couldn’t even sit up, let alone walk, but she appeared to be unharmed. For now. He wanted her to stay that way. Skimming his knuckles along her chin, he locked his gaze with hers. Why did he have to hurt her to save her life? “Even if I make it out of this, I can’t be with you.”

  Her face flushed red and her eyes narrowed. “You said you loved me.”

  “Good timing, lover boy,” Dan muttered.

  “Shut your trap, Molina.” He’d prefer to do this without an audience, for Jenna’s sake, but he didn’t have much of a choice right now. He needed to get her the hell out of the car so she’d have a chance. “I do love you. I probably have since we first met. But I’d be hell to live with. You know that. I can’t do happily ever after with two-point-four kids and a nine-to-five job. I can’t be that guy for you. It’s never going to happen.”

  Jenna frowned and searched his face, the seconds ticking away with agonizing slowness. “I don’t believe you,” she said, breaking the thick silence as she looked over his shoulder. “Tara, give me your gun and go with Dan.”

  “No,” Mick protested.

  She ignored him, taking the weapon from Tara while keeping pressure on his chest. “Be careful.”

  “You too,” Tara said. “We’ll get help.”

  The rear passenger door opened and Dan slid under the tree branch and into the back seat. “Hang in there, man. We’ll be back for you.”

  Mick didn’t even have the energy to fight anymore. He was fading fast, losing his ability to focus on Jenna’s pretty face as she watched Dan and Tara over the edge of the window frame.

  “Rob taught me how to shoot,” she said without looking at him.

  He reached up and slid his hand under the hair at the nape of her neck. “I love you, stubborn woman,” he whispered.

  She rested her forehead against his. “I love you too.”

  A loud crack split the air and something thudded into the car. Jenna did a quick recon out the window and ducked. “Crap. Dan and Tara are under fire.” Resting the gun barrel on the top of the window ledge, she aimed and pulled the trigger.

  The kickback jolted her against the console and she released the pressure on his wound as pieces of safety glass rained down on him. Holy hell, his chest hurt. He fought a rising rush of nausea and blinked away the dots that swam in front of his eyes.

  “Sorry,” Jenna cried, scrambling to push the bandage back into place.

  “Did you get him?”

  “No,” she frowned. “I don’t know what happened.”

  Outside the car, gun shots popped loudly. “What’s going on?”

  “Dan and Tara are pinned down,” she took aim and fired again, bracing herself this time. “Got him!” she shouted with a triumphant smile. “In the arm, but his gun went flying and he’s down for now.”

  Jenna’s hair drifted in the cool breeze as she watched the scene through the broken window, still holding his makeshift bandage in place. He’d give anything to get her out of this alive.

  Motion from the far side of the car caught his eye and he turned his head.

  Troy Griffin—CEO of Claymore, known to his guys as Ghost—stood at the window, his rifle aimed at the back of Jenna’s head.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  JENNA WATCHED IN SHOCK as Colin took out the man shooting at Tara with a quick twist to the neck. The shooter—Dolph—dropped like a stone at his feet.

  She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the image, but it was already imprinted on her retinas. Tara’s yell made her look again. Rizzo, the man Jenna had shot earlier, was back on his feet, his right arm hanging limply at his side, the gun in his other hand pointed at Colin now.

  Dan was on the other side of the clearing, grappling with Beavis, so Jenna was the only one who could save him.

  Sighting along the barrel, she let out a breath and pressed on the trigger. Her shot went wild as Mick yanked her down to his chest. What was he doing? She was about to ask him when something zinged so close to her head that she could feel the disturbance in the air. The percussive boom echoed through the Land Rover, obliterating all sound but the high-pitched ringing in her ears.

  She felt herself screaming, but couldn’t hear it.

  Before she realized what he was doing, Mick had wrapped his hand around hers, rolled her to the right, and pressed her finger on the trigger. Only then did she see the man standing in the window with an enormous rifle. In a flash she remembered the revulsion that had rolled through her when his rough, dry hands gripped hers at Rob’s funeral. Troy Griffin
, CEO of Claymore. She barely registered who he was before the bullet pierced his thick neck.

  He dropped his weapon and clutched his throat as blood gushed through his fingers. After a couple of stumbles, he fell to the ground.

  Mick’s hand fell away from hers and he started to gasp for air.

  Trembling, Jenna flipped back over, careful not to put her weight on his chest. His wound had started bleeding in earnest again, and his eyes were clenched shut.

  “No, no, no! Do not die on me, damn it. You owe me, Mick.” She leaned hard on his chest, fighting back the insidious, sticky fluid that cared nothing for love. “Please, I love you so much. We’re so close to the end of this.”

  “Are you okay?” Dan appeared at her window, his voice tight. “I think we got them all.”

  “Hurry, please. He’s fading on me.” She pleaded with her eyes. “Don’t let him die, Dan. I need him.”

  “Shit. I’m going.” He raced away from the car.

  Outside, she could see Tara running around Rizzo—had Griffin’s shot hit him, or had Dan taken him out?—to kneel over Colin. He lay motionless on the ground, blood spreading into the dirt around him in a pool. Jenna had probably failed to save him too. So much blood, so many deaths. And for what?

  She wanted to rave and scream and pound her fists. Instead, she held both hands over Mick’s wound and put all of her weight into it, watching his chest rise and fall with each shaky breath.

  “You saved me. Again,” she said between sobs. “You’ve done right by your promise to Rob.”

  Minutes ticked by as she watched the life leak out of him, helpless to stop it. “When you get better, we can live anywhere you want, but I’m not letting you go without me. Alaska, Hawaii, Florida, the Mojave Desert. I don’t care as long as we’re together.”

  Maybe if she kept talking, it would give him something to focus on. Maybe it would keep him from drifting away. “I’m going to take Rob’s savings and start working for myself. I’ve lived in fear for too long, but I realized I was so worried to take a risk that I wasn’t living. Not really. I’m ready to live now, Mick. And I want you there too. You think you’re a risky proposition for me, but I think you’re the safest bet I’ve ever made.